


Whisper In My Coffee

by Blond_Wendigo, ObfuscatedEvanesce



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 1x10, AU Jace, Also Youtuber AU, And Semi AU Alec, At the same time!, College AU, M/M, May change rating later on, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Semi Normal Alec, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6320476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blond_Wendigo/pseuds/Blond_Wendigo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObfuscatedEvanesce/pseuds/ObfuscatedEvanesce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello, my name is Java Jace and welcome to another episode of the Morning Joe,” he smiles into the camera set on its little tripod and gives a short wave. Simple. Inviting.</p><p>Coffee Shop, College, and Youtube AU all in one. Tags will be added as we go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Java Jace

“Hello, my name is Java Jace and welcome to another episode of the Morning Joe,” he smiles into the camera set on its little tripod and gives a short wave. Simple. Inviting.

 Or so it would be, had he nailed the opening line. Fumbling, Jace ties words and syllables together incoherently. It’s several takes later before he finally shoots a decent line and by the end of it, he’s flustered and laughing at himself.

 He decides to keep a few of them.

 “Well guys… You’d think I’d get it right in one take by now. Guess not?” He shrugs dramatically, and then edits in a jump cut of him sipping a mug of freshly brewed coffee. Softly slurping, he relaxes into the liquid as warm steam billows in his face.

 “It’s the damn coffee. As you guys know by now I just can’t properly function without the first cup of the day.”  The way he speaks, it’s fond, even though the realization that it’s just him, speaking into the stagnant morning air with nothing more than his bed beneath him and a glass eye staring back… that realization sits there in the back of his head as he chats to his audience.

 “So a lot of you have been asking, and no,” he edits in a closer shot, azure eyes clear in hyperbolized annoyance, “Just no.”

 But the face he makes, the small slight grin right before he takes another sip of coffee betrays the message: “I am not banging the nerd at table 9.”   

 He lets a slightly awkward silence drag on for an equally awkward amount of time.

 “Though I would like to.”

 Another stretch of silence. A surreptitious sip.

 “ SOOooooooo that’ll be it for this episode of the MORNING JOE. Who is Joe? I don’t know. You’ll have to find out next time! Don’tdodrugsmakegoodchoicesstayinschoolbyyeeeeeee!”

 

* * *

 

“Alec, wake up already! I’m trying to sleep and I can hear your alarm clock blaring non-stop!” Isabelle whines, shaking him violently. Upon opening his heavy eyes to on opening his heavy lids to the faint sunlight coming in from the breach in his curtains, he jolts awake to a 5’4” demon towering over him.

 Sitting upright, he smacks down on the piercing, throbbing alarm. Alec rubs his eyes and glances over at the clock. Six a.m. Time to get ready for class.

 Isabelle stands, exhausted and stressed, in her Star Wars t-shirt and purple boxer shorts that went up to her thighs, strands of hair breaking out of her braid, and glasses askew. The dark circles under her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Alec. She was probably awake until just three hours ago either playing video games or watching the Star Wars DVDs which dork lord, Simon, gave her for their second anniversary.

 “I know you like your beauty sleep but I need mine too, Alec!” Isabelle waves her arms around haphazardly and Alec avoids being nearly hit in the face.  

 “Izzy. You are already beautiful, but you probably need some of my beauty to make up for those endless nights of texting your _boyfriend_ about the Galaxy Wars prequels” Alec says, poking fun at Isabelle. He was already pushing her out of his room while speaking, so as not to face the wrath of years of kickboxing.

 “IT’S STAR WAR-” Isabelle nearly shouts as Alec cuts her off with pressing a kiss to her forehead and proceeds to shut the door in her face and locks it.

 He goes to the bathroom to do his morning rituals, how do you think he got this beautiful? Well, it was in his genes for one, and all the skin care products.

 Alec moves to his enormous wardrobe, half he bought himself, and the other half, well he bought those too, but with his parent’s money given to him on holidays. All articles of clothing divided by color, all colors of the rainbow and variations of colors, most of the colors are very vibrant but he did have some dark colored clothes.

 He shimmies on some black skinny jeans, a blue polo shirt, and a navy blue baseball jacket. Alec finishes with a pair of black Doc Martens, a blue Neff beanie, and his usual silver rings on his right hand. It’s a little chilly out in the mid March air.

 By the time Alec walks into the kitchen for a quick breakfast, Isabelle’s _boyfriend_ is raiding the fridge. When did he even come over last night? What _was_ he doing here last night? Pushing the thought out of his head, he checks the fridge for whatever was left.

 Nothing.

 “Simon.” He looks over, guilt is scrawled across his face, cheeks full of the sandwich he just finished making.

 “You and Izzy are doing the grocery shopping today, and I’m going to my classes starving.” Alec isn’t _that_ approving of Simon, more so tolerates him.

 Simon swallows the lump of food down his throat and raises his hands up in front of him “Okay! Okay! Sorry!” It looks as if a floating light bulb switched on above his head as he smiles with an idea.

 “Hey! I know, you could go get something to eat at my best bro’s cafe!” Ugh, _bro? Really?_ “Remember Java Jace? You only went there once with us! Really, go back there, Alec. Best coffee and pastries you’ll ever have! Because honestly, you look like death with those dark circles.”

 “IZZY!” Alec shouts upstairs - their parents were already on another trip to another continent with Max again. “IF YOU DON’T KICK YOUR DORK IN THE BALLS, I WILL!”

 With that, Alec exits the kitchen and slams the front door on his way out.

 Isabelle looks down from the stairs, “It’s alright Simon. He just hasn’t gotten laid in a looooong time.”

 

* * *

 The video will post same time as always. Six am. Every thursday. Jace leaves his laptop running as he grabs his keys on the way out the door. Sometimes it feels as though he’s leaving a little kid unattended, with the laptop sitting atop his dresser unblinking. A thought wanders in, of the device swinging its legs vapidly as it waits for his return.  

 He shuts the door. Gently.

 He’s pumping nothing but coffee in his blood vessels by this point, but it’s the adrenaline which focuses him, as he slinks out of the apartment. The keys have no choice but to be jiggly and obnoxious. It strings him out more. If he isn’t quick enough…

 He dashes around a corner, on his toes as a certain redhead pops open her door and turns around to lock it.  

 Nope. Not being late for work today. Even if he’s technically the boss.

 She’ll be there, talking over the counter for hours later today anyway. Right now, the morning is his, and nothing’s going to shatter the zen he’s created.  

 Java Jace sits on the corner of Carroll Avenue and Rosemead Boulevard, right across from a Panera and just a stone’s throw away from Jenna’s. The local students call it the Ice Box simply because of how many people come to just chill and hang. The little bell at the top of the door chimes and double chimes and students would be talking with their mates or studying alone or in groups. And Jace dons his apron, light orange and pressed free of wrinkles, and makes them coffee.

 He gets his fair share of unpleasant customers every now and then. This guy who walk in doesn’t open the door aggressively. The chime rings just as soft and mellow as anyone else. His stride isn’t threatening. His fist aren’t clenched, but rather relaxed and loosely hung at his sides. It’s his eyes, those brown, furious eyes which alert Jace to the storm raging inside. Alec stops short of the line and rakes his eyes across the bulletins behind and sighs.

 “Welcome to Java Jace. Anything I can do for you?”

 “I’m thinking,” Alec says curtly. Jace just lifts an eyebrow and resumes mixing another order, passing a certain look to the other barista working on another customer’s panini. He returns with an, _I know_ , kind of roll to his eyes, because it’s just the sort of entitled sentiment they’re used to working with on the rare occassion.

 Decided, Alec approaches the counter more intimately, and the second thing Jace notices besides the pissed and tired expression, is the fact that the man before him is tall. The whole time Alec prattles off his order, medium caramel mocha with whip cream and a chocolate muffin, his dead eyes drill unapologetically into Jace’s.  

 Before Jace started his business, before he dropped out of school to be a barista, Jace was a renowned athlete. Track, wrestling, even kendo classes at the college nearby. Jace had zero problem kicking anyone’s ass if they gave him a reason to. He was sure he could hold his own if push came to shove with this guy too. But with the intensity with which he comes across, Jace hopes it never comes to that. The guy is big and largely intimidating. But his hair’s nice.

 “Alright coming right up,” Jace tries to give a sincerely warm smile and nails it, “Can I get name for this order?”

 “Yeah, it’s Alec.”

 He pays upfront with sluggish movement and mild groaning.

 “Okay, _Alec_. If you’ll have a seat we’ll be right there with you.”

 He’s so polite, it’s almost comical.

 Alec refuses to sit and wait on his coffee, rather standing off a little out of the ways and watches as Jace makes the entire thing. Arms folded. Never looking outright accusatory, but Jace sees right through the thinly veiled supposition. Not like Jace would do something that juvenile anyway. Spit in someone’s cup? No way.

 “Bane?” Hodge calls, serves up his coffee and freshly pressed panini. A slender man, flouncy and loaded full of springs and fireballs strides gracefully up to the counter. It’s impossible to miss how his eyes linger on what he likes, man, woman, or sandwich alike. Bane takes his order coyly, rakes his eyes unsurreptitiously over Alec, Jace swears he hears a little hum, then leaves.

 Seeing the fierce-eyed tall guy thrown off kilter was worth more than the self-indulgent chuff Jace gives.

 “Alec.” The blonde calls, placing the plastic cup of hot liquid and pastry in front of him. Alec caught a glimpse of the name tag on the other’s apron.

  **Jace Wayland**

 Mumbling a quick thanks to him as he moves away for the next person to receive their order.

 He has some time to kill before his first class, might as well take a seat and get comfortable instead of standing next to the register for half an hour like a dolt.

 He takes the nearest seat, which was right next to the display case where Jace was adding the fresh batch of cookies that just finished in the oven. Their eyes lock to each other for a moment before Jace breaks away to take another person’s order.

 Alec takes a sip of the hot drink in his hand, immediately perking his whole being up from the rich caramel with a kick of flavor, and the warmth of the coffee spreads through his insides like fire-side heat on a chilly winter’s day.

Once Alec bites into the chocolate muffin, he knows that he’d be coming back again later before going to work.

 On his last bite, Alec notices the clock perched on the wall that reads **7:40 AM.** Time for Alec to attend to his boring Creative Strategy class that starts at 8 AM. But all of his classes are boring, he only learned how to be a successful party promoter from his mother.

 Before leaving, however, Alec spots a tip jar near the register that Jace is occupying. Quickly stuffing a few wrinkling bills into the jar before leaving, he hears a surprised, “Thanks!” as the bell jingles on his way out of Java Jace.  

 As he was about to throw away the empty cup in the trash before entering the building of his college, he finds more writing on the cup under the sleeve. Messy scrawl of black sharpie under his name on the cup. Alec takes a couple seconds to read the atrocious handwriting:

**_“Try smiling more. You look like you were plotting my death. ;)”_ **


	2. KnockOnLightwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace reveals something of his past relationship, Alec hates college, Java Jace is a haven for college students, and a lot of bro puns.

Bad habit. He actually sleeps with his laptop in bed with him, which rests atop messy splayed covers. Curled up, with pillows stuffed between his legs, one smushed underneath his lazing head, Jace closes his eyes and listens to the soft voice whispering to him through his earphones. Pale white and bluish light laps over him like tired ocean waves, and the voice, that soothing, deep voice ebbs into his skull cool like salt water and flows down his spine, every vertebrae, and to his extremities. There’s no need to watch those long graceful fingers trace and tap and scratch - all Jace needed were the sounds. Eventually, he succumbs to oblivion.

“Ok this video was a long time coming, but today, I bring to you, my most embarrassing moments.”

Like a kid made to clean his room, Jace pouts.

“Guys. The things I do for you.”

A jump cut to him gulping down coffee. The mug clunks against the hardwood nightstand and he rubs his hands together, dry and wispy.

“Ok! It’s time I tell the story of the worst year of my life.

“Don’t make me do this.

“It actually happened just last year when I was still attending Berkeley. I met this girl - cute, redhead, feisty - wonderful chick named Clary. We had some of the same classes and ended up hanging out. I asked her out eventually, and of course she was into me so she said yes. We kissed.

“ _We kissed_

“Like, made out, full on tongue on tongue action and I’m over here running bases like I hit a home-run and then we get to talkin. We talk about family, where we’re from, how we grew up. You know. Getting to know each other more intimately before we got more... intimate.

“She’s my sister.

“ _MY_.

“ _SISTER_.”

Jace cuts away to him utterly _screaming_ off camera, something pure and visceral, like he’s trying to expunge the experience from the core of his being. His bed lies serene. Golden morning rays glance off the porcelain mug. There’s a pillow missing, and suddenly Jace’s screams become muffled as he edits his hysteria in all different directions off camera.

Jace apparates back on his bed, eyes tired with renewed disbelief.

“Guys I kissed my sister. Help. Me. And you want to know the best part? She lives on the same floor of my apartment. We’re still cool? But man. I’m pretty sure she’s aware that I avoid her at all costs.

“Well that’s it for today’s Morning Joe. What are some of your embarrassing stories. Can’t be as horrifying as mine. Leave a comment below and as always don’tdodrugsmakegoodchoicesstayinschool buhbye!”

* * *

Alec immediately calls Simon on his phone while coming out of his last class of the day. Chemistry was supposed to end at 12:45 P.M. but his professor just loved to hear himself speak. He kept reiterating the directions of the lab 50 times! Alec and the rest of the college students had to stay after class to finish all their experiments.

The clock on his phone reads 1:00 P.M.

“Y’ello,” Simon’s voice comes through the speaker

 

“Hey dork, my class ran longer than it should have. I need a ride.” Alec already missed the city bus and doesn’t want to undergo the process of being pushed all the way to the window for 15 minutes or have to ask some Donald Trump haired bourgeois to move out of the way so he can get off anyway.

“Hey! You know I don’t like being called that! Treat me with some respect here, dude.” Alec rolls his eyes, “Oh I’m sorry O great intellectual badass. Will you please pick me up with your glorious van?” Alec just wants to get home and finish his homework quickly to have some free time before work.

“Okay I know you’re being sarcastic, but I kind of like that. It has a nice ring to it. Intellectual Badass could be a title for another one of my D&D characters.” He hears faint pencil scribbling on the other end. Of course Simon’s writing it down.

“Simon, for the love of Beyoncé, if you don’t come down here to Java Jace and pick me up, I’m taking the house key Izzy gave you and keeping you away from her.” With that, he hangs up. Alec isn’t kidding, he’d do anything for his family.

Alec comes into a not-entirely-empty Java Jace, to the hum of a tune he can’t quite place coming from the kitchen. The other employee isn’t here, probably on break.

He rings the bell next to a “Ring for service” card. Jace calls out, “Just a second!”

Jace saunters to the display case, lumbering and cumbersome with a huge tray of pastries, and replaces the second shelf with massive soft cookies with chocolate chips twice it’s normal size.

“How can I help you?”

“Hey, can I get the medium caramel mocha again?”

Jace nods, doesn’t bother to write down Alec’s name on the cup this time, and walks  behind the counter to start on the order.

Alec notices a lot more about the stocky barista. Blonde hair slicked back and shaved on the sides, and startling blue eyes, it reminds him of a certain hedgehog. Like he could perform a spin dash right out the front doors.

“Gotta go fast, motherfucker.” Alec whispers.

Giving Alec a confused glance, he halts his movement completely.

Jace pokes a finishing straw through the whipped cream and caramel syrup. Alec hands Jace the money with a smile, “I read what you wrote on my cup. I’ll take your advice.”  

“I saw that you gave me a nice tip before you left. Thanks for that man.”

A jingle resonates throughout the cafe and in walks the man in thick rimmed glasses and a Star Wars t-shirt.

“Hey, Broseidon! God of the Brocean!” Simon approaches Jace, arms slung out obnoxiously wide as Jace leaves his spot at the register.

“What’s good, Han Brolo?” Jace asks as they do their usual handshake.

“Nothing much Chewbrokka. Was on my way to pick up Alec here.”

“Does that mean you won’t at least stay for a drink, Brobi-Wan Kenobe?”

Unbelievable. How many bro puns could they have? Alec has to end it now before he starts too.

“Listen bromosexuals, I have stuff I need to get done today so Simon, will you take me home already?” Alec honestly doesn’t want to leave, and free time comes so slowly only to go even quicker.

One last handshake and one last pun, “See ya later, Jedi Master Broda!”

“Drinks tonight, Broba Fett!” Simon exits the cafe and Alec follows closely behind.

With how much he was rolling them, Alec honestly thought his eyes would fall out.

* * *

As soon as they park in the driveway, Alec beelines straight for his room. He lost loads of free time as it is already. He’s determined for the remnants to be as productive as possible.

To most, Alec’s room would seem barren. He keeps it neat, tidy, simplistic. Everything meticulous and in a specific spot. His bed made, tucked into a corner of the room. An armoire towers along the wall just beside it, chestnut and glossy in the midday light filtering through the curtains. But amid the neat and the prim lies one of Alec’s most closely guarded secrets.

Alec scans the room, mouth slightly agape with a smile. Locks the deadbolt with an audible switch.

His materials unfold like magic - from seemingly nowhere. A tripod unsheaths from its scabbard from its little corner behind the door. The camera, whose eye peers into darkness, blinks and finds its way from its hiding spot behind a row of clothes hanging in the armoire. His laptop - not the one he uses for school - hangs out on the shelf amid various knick knacks. There’s more, much much more to be found neatly tucked away in cubbies and hanging racks and fold away drawers underneath and between and above and under. A treasure trove of _stuff_ something something better sentence here.

He sets up. A swelling feeling takes over as he works. His work station, just a drab desk with a table top lamp, it’s an empty canvas begging for the brush.

Camera set, gaze infinitely downward.

The 3dio, unveiled from the desk drawer, connects perfectly, and Alec sets it on the table.

Somehow the conscious decision to breathe makes everything sharper. More in focus. So. He breathes. Sits down, tripod contraption between his legs, and starts recording.

“Hey. It’s me. KnockOn-”  Alec gently drums the table top with the tips of his fingers, “LightWood here. Today, I’m going to be doing some whisper rambling…”

Quickly glancing at his stopwatch app, he would finish in a half an hour. As always.

He’d do various things in each video, like idly play with his rings, clean his desk, quiet voice overs of movies or video games.

Alec would find assortments of objects and make quiet sounds with them.

Crinkling a water bottle, crack his knuckles, tapping a beat, or just scratching his arms for quiet noise.

He ends his videos, always, with “Sweet dreams.”

Alec gets to uploading immediately, it should finish tonight. He kills time by finishing homework and watching Scream Queens until he has to go to work at 5 PM.

* * *

“Hey Jace, how was work today?”

Goddamn it had to happen sooner or later. He shouldn't have let Simon talk him into one more round of Smash Brothers at his house.

Jace fumbles around for his keys, palms-a-sweaty as he tries to keep a level voice.

“Oh it was fine - fun! Living the dream job. How’s school going for ya?”

She replies as he’s opening the door, something about an upcoming gallery, of which he’s invited to, of course. He doesn’t remember agreeing to take part in the showing, but apparently he did at some point. She’s all bright eyes and wide smile and it puts Jace a little more on edge. He’s on the edge of a whirlpool, which only lightly tugs at his ankles. But from here, he can see the almighty, inescapable pull there at the center.

The vibrations of his buzzing phone snags his attention just as he shuts the door.

  
He smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clear some things up, Alec is also a Youtuber and he does ASMR videos to help people go to sleep. I could not resist with the bro puns because that is literally Mundane!Simon + Jace.
> 
> Please kudos + comment! Comments are very much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

All the familiar faces. Usually they’re a welcome sight - regular customers, friends, former teachers. Here in his little hovel, the monotony of everyday obfuscates the progression of time. He’s living in a coffee scented bubble of pastries while the world outside moves on. The dirty blonde kid, Hodge, always with messy strands cascading from beneath a bright red cap, now no longer the social recluse. He’s bigger than he was last year, and hides beneath hats no more. Jace’s one black friend, Luke and Hodge were never really friends, but as the days progressed, so too did their relationship. Semester after semester Jace sees a particular cycling of textbooks as familiars use his store as study grounds. And he, the college dropout, gets to watch as everyone else progresses with their life. 

“Something on your mind?” her kindly voice cuts through his daze; his eyes dart forth and fro begging for some focal grasp. Clary smiles as Clary does - unctuously sweet and innocent despite the proclivity toward mild manipulation. Her lean across the counter and her unpainted fingernails under her chin thrusts a delicate scent toward him. He’s not particularly poised to pinpoint exactly what.

Jace continues cleaning out the coffee pots with newfound purpose, “No, I’m fine. I think.”

“You think? Jace you know you can talk to me if you need help right?” Jace absently nods, throwing himself into his work, “Because that’s what friends do. They talk.”

“Look, I’ve just been busy alright? I know school is demanding, but so is running a business.”

“We can still hang like we used to -”

“No, Clary. We can’t.”

She blows up a cheek, switches the air between, and drums on the counter, unaffected:

“I’d dare you to pose naked for class, but,” she rolls her eyes and chuckles to herself, dismissing the idea with a wave, “Why don’t you come check out the art gallery this weekend? It’ll be nice catching up. Visit the museum, maybe go see  _ The Hateful Eight _ …. Huh? Huh?”

“Why do these all sound like dates?” Jace inquisits through one arched brow.

“It’s perfectly normal to date your friends,” coyly, Clary smirks and Jace snorts a chuckle.

“But not family,” he shoots back, but Clary’s reply is planned and prepared:

“My mom took me out on dates all the time. To Walmart, the park, CiCi’s pizzaria, McDonald’s, and that one trip we took to see the Parthenon?,” she reminisces through clouded nostalgic lenses, “We would just talk about our day and got to know each other better than the day before.” She sighs, dreamy look lingering.

Jace pinches her cheeks and cooes, “You’re just a regular incestual little buttercup aren’t cha?”

“Whatever, Jace,” she exhales with a roll of her eyes, “By the way, are you ever going to tell your viewers about how we found out about being related?”    

And suddenly the desire to kindly excuse himself, hang his apron at the door, walk into the middle of the road and lie down in front of a speeding truck lurches from the pit of his stomach, a sickly feeling he just barely manages to choke down. 

“Welp, I have no good explanation for this,” Jace mutters, clapping his hands together, “You found my Youtube channel?”

“Dude, I’m  _ subscribed _ to your Youtube channel.”

“Do me a favor? Take this very sharp knife right here, mhm. Kill me now.”

* * *

To say that Alec lusts for the sweet embrace of death is an understatement. Lately, everything has been getting a lot harder, more annoying. 

“ALEC, WAKE UP!” he mildly groans in protest to the form shaking him awake, “You’re going to be late for your classes if you don’t hurry.” Isabelle shoves the alarm clock in front of his squinted eyes, the LED numbers coming into focus-

**_SHIT_ **

He’s late. He usually gets up at 6 A.M. to get ready, but homework loves to be complicated and waste his time late into the night. 7 A.M. was not enough time, he’d have to skip on breakfast to get to the bus in time.

Alec scrambles throughout his room, brushing his teeth while trying to get his skinny jeans on, swaying left and right, then dashes to the bathroom, spitting the foam into his sink.

Hastily, Alec throws on a worn Hawkeye T-Shirt, one that Simon bought for him on his birthday, slips on his Navy Blue messenger bag, then heads for the front door. Isabelle stops him at the front door and hands him a steaming thermos of hot coffee.

“Thanks, Izzy.” Alec says, kissing her forehead and high tailing it to the bus.

* * *

Alec barrels down the aisle of the bus to the doors, sprints past Java Jace, and hurls himself toward the campus. The bus was stuck in traffic for so long, red lights unblinking, while other people smushed all up against him. He may have not been touched by a man in about 2 years, but he still has some self respect.

Classes are going to suck again, even more than usual. Normally, Alec would pick up on the material right away, but the nights were long and the days busy; he has no idea what any of it means and finds himself looking for all the answers on the internet.

His growing insomnia is a rattlesnake devouring  a sleeping mouse. He’s feeding a frustration and the week has only just begun.

He takes his seat as the professor starts their lesson and his friend, Magnus, opens his notebook and glances up at Alec’s tall figure.

“Your hair is wild and out of place, more so than usual,” Magnus points out and it’s true. Alec was in so much of a rush this morning that he hadn’t styled his hair.

Magnus takes out his iPhone, encased in a boring forest green. Opening his front camera, he flips it to show Alec his disheveled hair. Jet black hair going every which way, Alec runs his hand down the spikes multiple times to no avail. He looks awful. No concealer for these sleepless nights.  

Alec fixes his hair in the restroom after class, running wet palms over the flaws to make himself presentable instead of appearing as if his head has been mauled by a hair dryer. With a distasteful wince, Alec pours the remaining contents of the thermos down the drain. He appreciates the thought that Isabelle put into it, but he almost spit out the scalding bitter liquid onto Magnus during class.

Making his way out of the building, Alec sets a brisk pace back to Java Jace. He needs to finish up the last of his work, and the craving of being free of this agony that is college fills him with determination

The bell jingles as he opens the door, the aroma of caffeine and freshly baked pastries drifting throughout the cafe. He hasn’t been back for a while, everything kicking his ass, no room for free time. Business is booming for Jace, college students bustling around, the scritching of pencils, and other teenagers mingling among themselves. Tables, booths, stools, and cushioned chairs laid out.

Alec finds a booth for himself, setting his messenger bag down before approaching the group of people in line to order what they want. Another reason why people love it here, the service is excellent, employees are quick at finishing orders and people aren’t left to wait for long periods of time.

As soon as Alec is close enough to the front, he notices Jace’s absence. The slicked back blonde nowhere in the kitchen, two other apron clad men pipe a cream finish for a customer’s frappe.

Where could he even be? Maybe he is on break or has a day off. Surely Jace would be having a better day than this shit show of a week.

“I can help whoever is next!” A bearded blonde man calls.

His name tag reads  **Hodge Starkweather.**

Alec gives his usual order, watching as Hodge gets to work. Hodge hands him his order, not giving him a second glance as he took the next person’s order.

The tall man sits down at his booth, immediately getting to work on his confusing class papers. Scritching, his blue pen runs across the paper, pausing at times as Alec tries searching for the answer on Google. Some questions are easy to answer; some of them left him in a panic, like half of the college students in the cafe.

Stressed beyond belief, yet so few people to complain to. Isabelle would only tell him he’s being overdramatic and to get over it. It is times like this where he wishes that he had his old bow from high school, an apple, and the head of his mortal enemy.

Finishing the last word problem, Alec packs his stuff to leave. He has work soon. He needs to get home to change and get to work on time.

* * *

“So… Kuharsky?”

The day unfolds annoyingly pleasant. Not a single grey blemish lingering on the faceless sky, and even still the air runs cool against Jace’s folded arms. The pavement and architecture modern, appealing, with even pleasanter aromas wafting from the bakeries, their stroll down campus auxiliaries is made all the more leisurely by the thin crowds and frequent greenery. A sickly wave of remorse rolls down his spine and settles in his bloodstream. Had a decision or two been made different, he might be shuffling off to some class or cafeteria right now. Or hitting up the gym with his buddies. Or…

Or.

“Tall, gruffy, total meathead kinda guy - never pinned that as your type.”

“Clary, what are you talking about.” It’s more of a demand than a question. He’s paying attention but also not, and he just needed a moment to focus on the moment. His brows knit. Less confusion and more intrigue.

“The guy at table 9? Nate Kuharsky usually sits there.”

“Wh-” the words mouthed but they fail to escape before it hits him.

And then Jace realizes with a pale longing that he hasn’t seen him in awhile. Maybe a week? It’s like a grade school crush - mostly admiring from afar. A grin and a wave, yet so few actual words exchanged. Since that first scribble on the coffee cup, Jace somehow always managed to mention the dark haired grump to his audience (always referring to him as table nine for anonymity’s sake). That, and it’d be tragic and wildly embarrassing if he found out Jace had been pining over him to some hundred thousand people.

“You yourself are a very gruffy,” and she makes this low grunty monkey noise, “meathead kind of guy of course.”

Jace snaps his eyes toward Clary before looking straight on again. A crack of a smile webs across his face as they round a corner.

“It’s not Kuharsky. Try again.”

She argues with him all the way to the gallery. Clary knows the table numbers; she knows every order of operation in that establishment. She helped create it. Kuharsky was definitely at table nine. Jace denies. She gives up, quite surprisingly.

“If I do, you have to tell it with me,” Jace comes out, right out of the blue.

For lack of juxtaposition: “Huh?”

Jace swears he has the cutest sister ever.

“How we found out?”

“Honestly? I’d rather not.”

* * *

Opening his wardrobe, the tall man swaps his current attire for dark blue dress pants and a blazer with a white collared shirt, adorning it with an ash black tie, tucking his shirt into his pants and slipping the leather belt through a silver buckle.

Coming down the stairs to retrieve his footwear, the smell of roasted marshmallows wafting through the kitchen and into the living room.

“No! No! Open it! Open it, Simon!” Isabelle’s voice boomed from the kitchen door. Pushing in, Isabelle in short shorts and a black rock band’s shirt, and Simon in a black skinny jeans and a comfortable yellow hoodie with the words “OPPAI” printed across with what resembled breasts under it.

Their hands were sticky with yellow, pink, and white as they were wiping the inside of the microwave with a wet wash cloth.

Alec looked over the scene “What is going on in here, Izzy?” Glancing at the plate of gooey colors melted all over before Isabelle hid it behind her she holds a black disk case with both of her elbows.

“Simon and I were going to have a movie day! We pre-ordered The Force Awakens because movie theaters are disgusting and overpriced. We were just making snacks but  _ Simon  _ didn’t keep watch of the Peeps s’mores!”

“Izzy! J-Just help me clean this mess before it hardens!” Isabelle goes to clean the wash cloth before climbing onto the counter, scrubbing furiously.

“You better clean that up or Mom will kill you, like when Simon spilled Kool Aid on the carpet” Alec left at that.

Slipping on his black dress boots, he leaves for work. It’s a short walk there, and he definitely isn’t taking the city bus. He stands a high chance of getting mugged looking this prim and proper.

The grand building comes into view, the name in big black letters:

**MEN’S WEARHOUSE**

Before reaching for the handle, the familiar text tone rang from his pocket. Pulling it out, the message preview shows that his mother had texted him. Apparently they are on the road home now, and that there’s a job for them to do.

Plan another party, but instead of a raging party, plan a formal banquet for a corporation’s merger. They have a week and it is open to the public to celebrate their success. Great. More to add to this overflowing plate threatening to topple and break.

He wonders if Jace would be able to help him out; he’s an excellent baker and he brews heavenly coffee. 

He’ll think about it later. Right now, he has work to get to.

Alec shuffles past the glass door, his coworker Raphael looking relieved at the sight of him. Dressed in a cobalt blue dress shirt and a black vest, and dress pants perfectly hugging his figure, he’s so  perfectly styled, people thought he was drawn straight out of a painting.

“ _ Dios _ , I’m glad you’re here. I had to help a mother and her son pick out a suit and she kept changing her mind because of their price range, and her son was just trying to get them to leave after she kept asking the same question for 20 minutes.”

Putting the plastic measuring tape on his neck and turning back to the shorter man, he snorts. It’s always annoying tending to the penny pinchers.

“You know, that nerd ruined another one of my jackets.”

“Again? Where’s it ripped this time?”

Raphael points to his left shoulder and measures about the size of a Samsung Galaxy smartphone with his index finger and thumb.

“His klutzy ass fell and ripped a chunk off trying to grab onto me.”

Alec scoffs. Knowing Simon, he probably tripped over the dust settling on his own two feet.

The rest of the evening went on, having to change the mannequin's outfit, get all up and personal with people while measuring them, and listen to other men talking to him about their personal lives and girlfriends. The usual work routine. Casually undress the attractive ones with his eyes, which happened to be most men who walk within store limits. He happened to be doing just that, surreptitiously oncing over a wine mogul who happened to frequent the place, when fragments of familiar voices caught his attention, 

“...ot that bad! Just try a li-”

“Nope! Nothing you say will ever convince me to put scorpions in my mouth.”

Alec freezes, heating up simultaneously. He knows that voice. What he doesn’t understand is what is it doing here? Impulse takes over. Alec spots them by the open entryway, Jace, the friendly, intoxicating barista, and a lady whose hair glows like smoldering embers. He’s supposed to greet customers at the door. He glances circumspect, then power walks with such brusqueness, straight over to Raphael. Suddenly, Alec is acutely aware of how he towers over everything but the mannequins mounted on the table tops. All he has to do is turn around..

Just the mere thought of those eyes resting on his back has him sweating. At least he thinks he’s sweating - the pinpricks dotting his skin feel a lot like lava administered through a syringe.   

“Hey I - uh, need to check something outback for a customer. You mind receiving the guys that just came in?” low and with such startling calmness, Alec leans on the register counter where Raphael fiddles with some research on the computer.

Looking up, Raphael makes a furrowing face as a thought crosses his mind, then, “Ok.”

Delighted, Alec thanks him then hurries off while trying not to look too eager to get the hell out of there.

He hides out in the backroom. Hung head and back flush against the wall. Silly. He’s twenty one.

“I’m dragging him to the art crawl this weekend, but  _ of course _ he has nothing but summer casual wear.”

“Hey, the last time I ever needed to play dress up was high school prom. Wouldn’t need to do this if that still fit.” Jace mumbles.

“Oh really? Maybe a suit isn’t quite your style. We have a good selection of dress shirts and pants over here. You said you were going to an art gallery? Are you showing a piece?”

Alec doesn’t tune out. He doesn’t pretend to go rifling through the extra stock either, despite the come and goings of employees. Never has he seen Jace in anything but work clothes. Generally comprising of a light blue apron, brown cap and pale orange shirt - everything completely  _ Java Jace _ , but this, him in choice wear was astoundingly more  _ Jace _ . A long sleeve button-up lain across a beautifully defined chest, his biceps bulge underneath the fabric. Blue jeans  ashen with tan patches brushed against his thick thighs, Alec relishes the brief memory. Everyday casual. How Jace carries himself. How Jace seems both involved and at a distance at the same time. Alec doesn’t believe in love at first sight and he never will. But oh, there’s a powerful lust for friendship there that Alec hates to admit.

He’s not all that keen on inserting himself into other people’s lives.

Or people in general for that matter.

Raphael does a good job scouting for Alec. No they’re not together; they’re siblings. Single.

“And if you’re in a particularly stalky mood, they’ll be  watching a movie right after the art crawl.”

Alec gives him an indignant glare.

“I’m not gonna stalk them. Alright?”

Raphael shrugs discourteously.

“Coincidence in scheduling. Whatever you want to call it. A rose by any other name as they say.”

Sometimes Alec wonders how this guy even became part of his company.

* * *

With a wave goodbye to Raphael, he strolls through the small neighborhood on his way home. Isabelle sent him a picture earlier, of their little brother and in his hands, a plastic lightsaber from Isabelle’s favorite movies.

**“Guess who’s home and gifted with the force x3”**

Grinning like an idiot in the night, Alec sped up his pace, eager to be around his family.

Upon opening the door to his home, he noticed that nobody was in the living space. That is, until he heard a high pitched scream.

He ran to the source of the scream, leading him to their windowless theater room with the whole family and Simon on the plush couch.

“What happened?!” After opening the door, Isabelle caught her breath “Oh, it’s nothing. Simon just screamed when the vampire appeared.”

Simon nudged Isabelle, pouting “It has pale skin and it’s fangs were dripping blood!”

Maryse chuckles, getting up from her seat to lead Alec to the kitchen. Setting out the papers of what they were asked to have for the banquet, Maryse looked to Alec “I trust that by now, this should be easy enough to handle?”

His mother had already done her part, getting the information from the clients and listing possible restaurants that would surely help out. Alec would have to choose where the event would be held, visit the establishments and persuade them to contribute, and the placement of all the amenities.

Normally, he’s used to this, but Alec has too many tasks going on in his life at this moment. But he’s a grown up, and he’ll suck it up for his family and pull through with the plans. But carrying the overwhelming weight of responsibility is tiring him out, wanting to just lie down and sleep until death to sleep some more. He’ll handle the arrangements tomorrow. For now, he only wants to relax with his family, plus Simon.

* * *

When they say their nighttime departures, Jace feels a lot less self-conscious about it. The whole outing was enjoyable, taking an afternoon off work to just chill with his best friend. Albeit somewhat tugged to and fro against his will. He should be okay with this, and he is. And he is NOT okay with that. The whole time, listening to Clary prattle on about her dreams of painting the next sistine chapel or illustrating a thousand children’s books, or the way she talks about life and movies and cups of coffee, it only reminded him of what made him fall in love with her in the first place.  

And oh how beautiful she is.

Jace palms his keys onto the nightstand with a muffled clink. The papery crinkle of thick cardboard bags thud into a corner. He doesn’t turn on any lights. In the darkness here, no shadow sleeps in the corners of his brain. Evening attire shed, Jace slips on thin pajama pants and nothing more and crawls into bed.

The guy at table nine. Jace never thought he’d see him outside that small cafe on the corner. Tall, immensely tall. Towering even, and that mop of dark, tenebrous hair. Built like a pillar, exquisitely strong, yet the demeanor of a tenuous, uncertain little kid. And of course the guy was in the running for “America’s Next Top Booty” right up there with the likes of Carter Jenkins or Shemar Moore.

Jace giggles to himself, reaching for his laptop and powering it on.

He scrolls through Youtube, not really paying attention to any content in particular. Sciency channels, some vlogs. Even a few political debates and one on #WTFU, with the unlawful DMCU take-downs. He’s just cycling videos while jotting down notes for a video later, in a separate tab.

He should really be figuring up people’s checks for the week, but…

He notices a new video, fairly recent, from his favorite channel which he hadn’t gotten around to watching yet.

He happily clicks.

It starts out normally. The empty wooden desk. The pair of perfectly manicured fingernails on impossibly long fingers. The dark, sultry voice from behind the camera droning on about weird asmr things. And every time, when certain words escape that low vibrato, chilling sparks sprinkle down his spine and all up in his brain. Like an ethereal massage where the voice takes the form of chiropractic hands and manipulates his inner however it pleases. It’s about the only form of submission Jace willingly puts himself through, but the extensive relaxation is well worth it. 

He falls asleep, somewhere in the middle. Seven minutes before the story of a silly, scared, twenty one year old hiding out in the back of a clothing store. 


End file.
